


Sister, Sister

by tolakasa



Series: This Christmas Day 'verse [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolakasa/pseuds/tolakasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two weeks since Christmas and Hannah hasn't left the state yet.  Marcy wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sister, Sister

Marcy pressed the doorbell to announce her presence and let herself in to her parents' house. Her father was comfortably ensconced in the recliner part of the sectional in the living room, his briefcase and laptop next to him, a pile of papers on his lap desk, and something golfy on the television—and a chocolate milkshake in his hand. "Does Mama know you have that?"

"I spent the entire morning taking down Christmas decorations and packing them up to your mother's specifications. I've earned a little milkshake." He took a sip of it—through a curly straw. _My father, the geriatric twelve-year-old._ "Your sister's in her room."

"Mama?"

"Church meeting, I think. That new priest has been making snide remarks about mixed marriages, and I believe she intends to correct him, considering how many of our offspring are in them."

"Poor man." That priest was going to be begging for reassignment by morning. The last one who had tried to feed Mama that line of crap had wound up leaving the priesthood entirely. "Mind if I page her?" Third negligently waved his milkshake, so Marcy went over to the stairwell and bellowed " _HANNAHBELLE!_ "

" _IT'S HANNAH!_ " Marcy grinned. "Gimme a minute!"

Marcy went back to the den and sat down.

"It's a big house, they said. You'll need an intercom, they said," her father said with a grin, "but I said, I've got a woman and nine kids, every last one of them with the lung capacity of a blue whale, why waste money on electronics?" She laughed. "So, you two having a girls' night?"

"Why, Father, I'm a married woman. You know I don't do that kind of thing."

Third made a rude noise. "I said that to your mother. Once."

Marcy grinned. He didn't mean a word of it. Her father had _never_ been the kind of ass who thought he had a right to dictate his wife's social life. Or anything else, for that matter. "I think Courtney's planning something if Hannah makes it to the end of the month without bolting, but this is just the two of us catching up. I would've just invited her over, but I want some grown-up conversation. _Without_ the kids crawling all over us."

"The way they're crawling over Sam?"

 _Damn_ it. Somebody had been gossiping to her mother. _She_ certainly hadn't told her parents that Sam was living with them. If she figured out who.... "That's only Ananda," she said mildly. "It's actually kinda entertaining. It's like watching a skinny leech attach itself to Bigfoot." He snorted. "She latches on to Sam's leg or arm, and he can't get her loose without hurting her, so he goes on and tries to do whatever with her attached." Third laughed. "The really _funny_ part is watching Kara. She follows them around and you can just _see_ the gears grinding as she tries to figure out what Ananda finds so interesting about Uncle Sammy."

"And how _is_ Uncle Sammy? Liking his new digs?"

"Dean says he's fine. I haven't talked to him."

Third slurped up the last of his milkshake. "Marcy. I know it was a mean-spirited thing he did. But have you considered what you're doing to _Dean?_ "

"Dean understands."

"Does he? That's his brother you're not speaking to."

And here they went again. "That's me and Sam. That has nothing to do with Dean and Sam."

"But Dean's caught in the middle."

 _Dean's_ used _to being caught in the middle,_ she thought uncharitably, but trying to explain what she'd picked up of the dynamic between John and Sam would take all night and still not make sense, not to a Reynolds. "There's fourteen people in my house, Dad," she said instead. "It's not like we have to work to avoid each other. And _un_ like Sam, I can manage to be civil even with people I don't like."

"You're being unreasonable, Marcella."

"If I was being unreasonable, he wouldn't be living _in my house!_ He's Dean's brother and all the family he's got and I'll tolerate him for that, but until he apologizes for trying to wreck our wedding, I am _not_ going to be best friends with the man!"

Third sighed. "Of all the things you inherited from my grandmother, it had to be the ability to hold a grudge. That woman's bones are still pissed off at people."

"Should I send Dean to salt and burn them?" she asked, not entirely facetiously.

"Marcy, if anybody is going to salt and burn my grandmother, it's going to be me. Assuming _your_ grandmother doesn't beat me to it." He sighed. "They never got along, you know." Then, in that skewer-sharp way she really should have learned to expect over the years, "Like you and Sam."

 

***

 

"So, you want to talk about it?" Hannah asked.

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever's making you stab that poor hunk of cow like it's still mooing at you." Marcy shot her sister a glare. "Let me guess. Dad's trying to play peacemaker over Sam again?"

"You know how he is." She sighed, and stabbed her steak a little more fiercely than necessary. Intentionally, this time. "He tried to get Dean declared _incompetent_. He tried to turn every friend they have against the mere _idea_ of our wedding. That's not something I'm going to forgive without _some_ sign that he's sorry he did it. Seriously, two words. That's all I'm asking for."

"But he was in the wedding. And he's never—"

"Sent us an anniversary card."

Hannah blinked. "Never?"

"Not one. _Nothing_. No acknowledgement at all. Not a card, not a call, not a fucking _e-mail_. Not even something just to Dean. I'm dying to see how he avoids it this year, what with him living downstairs. At least I'll save a stamp." At Hannah's raised eyebrow, she explained, "I send him a card every year. Just to remind him that he thought we wouldn't last three months."

"Jesus fucking _wept_ , Marcy." Hannah shook her head. "You and your grudges, I _swear_. I can't believe Dean's let it go this long."

Marcy chuckled at that. "Dean decided a long time ago that he wasn't going to get involved, and I'm not stupid enough to make him choose between us. Besides, he was kinda pissed at Sam over that mess too. _He_ was the one Sam was willing to institutionalize."

"But he was still in—"

"And who else was Dean going to ask? Sean? I mean, _maybe_ Bobby, but he and Sam— If he'd asked somebody else, it really _would_ have damaged their relationship, no matter how much of a completely deserving ass Sam was being."

Hannah ate a bite of her own dinner, as if she were contemplating something, and then just said it. "You know, Marcy, you really are kind of extraordinarily pissed, considering that all he did was talk to the doctor. I mean, did he ever even get as far as calling a lawyer?"

"And if Dr. Reed hadn't called us and Dean hadn't taken a strip out of him, who's to say he wouldn't have?"

"It's just— From everything I heard from Jo and Ellen and Bobby, and from what little I saw— It doesn't _sound_ like him. They all told me he was the _nice_ one."

Marcy sighed. "Hannahbelle, when it comes to people getting between those two, there _is_ no 'nice.' He thought I was a threat to Dean, therefore I needed to be dealt with, and if Dean was too stupid to see that I _was_ a threat, well, he could deal with that too."

"You got all that without even speaking to the man?"

"I'm going to let you in on the great big Winchester secret." Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Dean and Sam come as a set. Period. End of story. Whether they're living twelve hours apart, or twelve feet. You simply don't get one without the other."

"Doesn't that pretty much happen with anybody who's not an orphan?"

"I'm not talking about just getting in-laws. The two of them— You know, except for the times Dean has been in the hospital and the fight they had over us getting married, they've _never_ gone more than a day without talking to each other? Maybe just a text, but always _something_. Not since I met him. I could go days without talking to Firth when he lived in the same building!" She sighed. "That's what I can't make Dad see. Why it doesn't really matter if Sam and I are talking or not, as long as I'm not forcing Dean to choose between us. I'm not saying he wouldn't be _happier_ if Sam and I could be more friendly, but...." She let the words trail off, and shrugged. "You can't understand Dean without understanding Sam, at least a little, and I understand him way better than I want to."

"You two." Hannah shook her head again. "Or should it be you _three?_ "

"Like I said. You don't get one without the other. Not that I haven't wished, occasionally." And that was quite enough time spent discussing her brother-in-law for one day. "So. Are we going to be receiving a permanent change of address card from you?"

"What?"

"You heard me, Hannahbelle."

"It's _Hannah_ , and I don't—"

Marcy set down her fork. "It's the day after Epiphany. You haven't stayed this long after Christmas since Dean introduced you to Bobby. Dad says you've been looking at classifieds and talking to him about possible jobs. You're staying for good for some reason, and I'd like to know why." She paused deliberately. "No. As your big sister, I _demand_ to know why."

"You realize that the big sister card doesn't work so well when there's _five_ of you, right?" Hannah sank back into her chair. "Missouri told me to."

"Missouri?"

"The psychic lady that Dean and Sam—"

"I know who she is. I don't—"

"Do you know what I've been doing the last few years? What I've _really_ been doing, I mean?"

"If that's your incredibly _un_ subtle way of breaking it to me that you've been hunting, I knew that already." Hannah flinched. "And no, Dean never came out and told me, but he didn't have to. Besides, it was pretty clear that everybody thought it was your best bet."

"It _did_ help," Hannah protested. "I'm a lot safer than I used to be."

Marcy couldn't argue with that. Ten years ago, Hannah wouldn't have dared leave the safety of a warded car for a restaurant. Assuming they could have gotten her out of the house and into the warded car in the first place.

"But I couldn't stay in the same place. Not anymore. Bobby had some books, but he's an expert in demons, not poltergeists, so he had to send me to some other people, and— I'd spent fifteen years in my room, and they're not as bad as long as I'm moving. I wanted to _see_ places. Even if it was just to go through a town for a salt'n'burn."

"Most kids just backpack through Europe when they're avoiding grad school," Marcy said dryly.

Hannah stuck her tongue out at her. "Anyway. Missouri called me right before Halloween, told me to get to Lawrence, that it was important. And when Missouri says something like that in _that_ tone of voice, you don't argue."

"Because it means she's seen something?"

"Usually. Anyway, I got there, and I thought she'd just lost her mind. She just started talking family this and family that, and how I needed to be around my blood, and I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, because it's not like I never see you guys or don't talk to you—"

"Don't let Mama hear you say that."

"You know what I mean. Anyway, Thanksgiving morning, right in the middle of the Macy's parade, she turns around and looks me in the eye and tells me that I'm as dense as a Winchester—" Marcy snorted "—and couldn't pick up a hint if it came attached to a block of rock salt. And that I had _better_ go home for Christmas and I had _better_ stay."

"And that was it?" Marcy asked skeptically. "And you just—"

"When Missouri says something like that, you don't argue. Especially when she follows that up by kicking you out of the house."

"She _what?_ "

"She said she had a lost boy headed her way and having me there would just confuse him more."

"A lost boy?" Marcy echoed, but her brain was ahead of her: Sam had been at Missouri's before he came here. And from everything Dean had told her about Sam's state of mind on Christmas Eve, "lost boy" would certainly have applied.

 _Holy fuck. I didn't think— What if Missouri saw something? Saw that them meeting—_ Her hand was reaching for the phone in her pocket before she realized that Hannah was still talking. She could ask Dean for verification later.

"Anyway, she kicked me out after Thanksgiving dinner, telling me to go home. So I did what any self-respecting Reynolds would do."

"California?" Marcy guessed. Contrariness ran in their family.

"Arizona. Took out a couple of cactus cats, cleared out a chupacabra nest, and then it was the week before Christmas and I was going to come home anyway. And then— I dunno. I got here, and— Maybe I've been out there too long. Jo says you start developing a sense about things. About when they're right, and when they're not."

"And you have that sense about staying here?"

"Yeah. It's weird, I was aiming to get here on Christmas Eve, but there was construction from Oklahoma to fucking _Alabama_ , and it slowed me down so much that I didn't get here until everybody else was. It was like the universe was conspiring to make me go to dinner this year. So I told myself I'd come in, see everybody, and then I got caught up with that makeover session with Sam and the girls, and by the time everybody went home and I was crawling into my bed, I realized I didn't want to leave again. So now...." She shrugged. "I called Missouri the day after Christmas. She told me I needed to stay here until summer. I think she expects something to happen, but if it doesn't happen by then, it won't and I'll be free to wander the world again. If I want."

"You don't think you will?"

Hannah shook her head. "Jerry wants to retire." Jerry was the head of corporate security— _both_ branches. "For the Blacks, they can just promote from within—Jerry's trained Mark to take over—but Mark's—um—"

"Dean likes the term 'head-blind'."

"Sounds about right. Mark's got _no_ imagination, and he definitely _does not_ believe in ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night. He'd have the Reds dismantled in five minutes. The only reason Jerry hasn't retired before now is because they didn't have anybody to take over."

"And you're thinking about it?"

Hannah shrugged. "Might as well."

"But if you're happy hunting—"

"Oh, I _like_ hunting, don't get me wrong." Hannah grinned. "But it's not a _vocation_ for me, the way it is for some of those guys. I can always take a local job or two if I get bored with the office, maybe help you and Dean with getting the spooks away from the new kids, but in terms of _real_ accomplishments— I can do just as much good running the Reds as I ever did out there burning bones. Maybe more. Maybe a _lot_ more. I mean, I had my allowance from the trust fund to keep me and Bret going, and I was real careful about not getting caught doing anything _really_ illegal, because God knows Ally wouldn't let me forget it—" Marcy laughed "—but there's so many hunters out there living off what they can skim or steal, who've already gone over the edge into felonies— The Reds are still set up to be backup for Granny, but she's almost a hundred years old, she's _not_ going to be going back out there! But if we gave it a good push—I think we could make a network. A real, honest-to-God, hunter network. And that would save lives. Bobby and Ellen have some good ideas, and I thought Dean might have some advice."

"Probably. What would you do with it?"

"Get people to problems quicker. See patterns earlier. There's this guy that lives at the Roadhouse, Ash—"

"Hannahbelle, did you blank out my _entire_ wedding? He was one of the groomsmen. Ally _still_ bitches about having to coax him through the recessional."

"He was? You guys got Ash into a tux? _Damn_." She shook her head. "Anyway, he's a fucking computer genius. Put him in charge of data mining and we'd be seeing demonic omens before the demons know they're leaving them. And he works cheap."

"How cheap?"

"Beer and pretzels. Although I'd probably start paying Ellen rent, just because. It'd still be cheaper than a full salary."

"And you think it'll work? I mean, there's a reason Ash doesn't have a job. Other than making sure Ellen's pool tables don't float away, that is."

"If I approach him right, definitely. Besides, he owes me a couple of favors."

Marcy eyed her sister suspiciously. Her _baby_ sister. "Tell me that's not code for 'we had a bad breakup and it was all his fault.'"

"Don't be ridiculous. Ash doesn't _date_."

"Yeah, but— Oh, holy hallowed _fuck_ , Hannah. You screwed _Ash?_ "

Hannah's eyes narrowed, in that way that meant she was about to drag up something only a sister dared. "Ash is human, which is way more than I can say for _Neil_."

"At least I _admit_ that I was young and stupid." Marcy rubbed her temples. "Were you at least drunk?"

"Well.... He was."

"That's because he's never sober!"

"Marcy, come on! You make it sound like he's some kind of—"

"Alcoholic?" Hannah opened her mouth, but couldn't really argue with that assessment. "Look, Ash is nice enough, but he's not _all there_."

"He was for my purposes," Hannah said with a smirk.

" _Hannahbelle!_ "

 

***

 

When she entered their bedroom, Dean was still sitting up in bed—possibly waiting for her, but his legs weren't under the covers and there was no TV or music on. To Marcy's experienced eye, it looked more like he'd just fallen asleep before he got fully situated. The bath-and-bed roundup must have been particularly hectic tonight.

"Yes, it was," he said, not opening his eyes, "and if it was a problem, trust me, I would have asked you to stay home." He stretched, and opened his eyes. "So stuff that guilt, woman. Besides, you needed some little sister time."

"We could have gone out later."

"Uh-uh. It's a school night, remember?" He grinned. "Did you have fun?"

"Baby sister torment and interrogation accomplished."

"Find out why she's still here?"

She groaned. "Let me get changed."

"That bad." It wasn't a question.

"I—don't know."

"Well, that sounds reassuring," he said. "She going back on the road?"

"I don't think so." She ducked into their closet to change clothes, then climbed into bed and pulled Dean's feet into her lap. "Anything I need to look for?" she asked. "Never mind, hand me the kit."

"Why?" He leaned forward to look.

"Because you're bleeding all over me. Kit, please."

He reached into his nightstand for the box of supplies they kept there and tossed it to her. "I haven't done—"

"Your heel's cracked again. I think it's time we find you a podiatrist."

He groaned. "Do we _have_ to?"

"You know, Sam does live downstairs now." She shot him a look. "I bet it wouldn't take much to make him panic and _drag_ you to the doctor."

"Oh, come on. You wouldn't do that to me." She just continued to look at him. "Marcy! You _know_ how he gets."

"Which is exactly why I _would_ , and you know it."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll call tomorrow."

"I knew letting him move in would have advantages."

Ever mature, Dean stuck his tongue out at her, then leaned back against the headboard while she worked on his foot. "So. Hannah." She hesitated, just a second, before reaching for the tube of antibiotic ointment, and he saw it. "Marce, what is it?"

"Have you seen anything? About Hannah, I mean? About her...staying?" She looked up—and his expression was all the answer she needed. "You have. Dean—"

"It's nothing definite," he said quickly, "or I would've told you. It—it's still iffy."

Marcy wished she was surprised. "She came home because Missouri told her to. I didn't think Missouri would see something about her and you not." She wrapped an awkward bandage over his heel, and moved on to checking his toes, looking for cuts and split nails. Any unnoticed injury could lead to infection, and infection could lead to amputation. "I think she's going to take over the Reds."

"You don't think she should?" he asked. "Trust me, every little bit helps out there."

"No, I know that, it's just— I'm worried about her."

"You always are," he replied, his voice without any shade of sarcasm. "Just like I'm always worried about Sam."

She didn't look up. "Sam's not going to go back to hunting."

"Maybe Hannah won't either. Running the Reds has got to be a full-time job, right? Especially if she goes through with making them a real network instead of Granny's backup. Trying to get hunters to work together is like—what's the saying? Herding cats?"

She nodded and shifted her attention to his other foot. "This thing you saw— It wasn't clear?"

"Oh, it was clear," he said, " _scary_ clear. Just— It felt fragile. Like anything could derail it. That's why I didn't tell you." Dean hesitated. "Will you quit worrying if I say that since you mentioned Hannah staying, it's not _as_ iffy?"

"Of course not." He chuckled. "But it helps." She ran her hands up his legs, looking for any signs of blood clots or new injuries that needed to be watched. "So, what is it?"

"Nothing bad, just— Lemme wait until it's _really_ definite, okay? There's still a little bit of wiggle room."

"Wiggle room," she repeated flatly.

"Just a little bit." She must have looked terribly unconvinced, because he said, "Marce, c'mere."

His arms slid around her, and she relaxed against him. "I just worry about her, Dean, that's all."

"I know," he said, the words accompanied by a soft kiss on the top of her head. "I know."

There was silence between them for awhile, warm and comforting, and she was drowsing off when he softly said "Marce?"

"Hm?"

"Don't make plans for August."


End file.
